


Important Talks

by ThatFilmGraduate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Conversations, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, M/M, Raising Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 11:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatFilmGraduate/pseuds/ThatFilmGraduate
Summary: (Or, Important Talks That Moony and Padfoot Have Had With Harry.)Harry Potter has had many important conversations with Moony and Padfoot over the years but none of them have gone quite like this!Remus/Sirius. Raising Harry AU.





	Important Talks

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these HP characters or any of the products, books or music referenced in the following story. 
> 
> A/N: This is an AU in which Remus Lupin and Sirius Black raise Harry Potter, Lily and James Potter live on the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital indefinitely, and Neville Longbottom is 'The Boy Who Lived'. 
> 
> [A/N: I usually reserve the nicknames (Moony and Padfoot) for their animal forms but since this is from Harry's perspective, I figured he wouldn't call them by their given names (Remus and Sirius).]
> 
> Written: July, 2016  
> Rewritten: November, 2018

**December, 1994**

Harry Potter yawned and stumbled into the living room, lying down on the comfortable red sofa and opening his book up.

He was back home for the holidays and had been for nearly a week. He was glad to be back. It was fun at Hogwarts with his friends (Ron, Neville, and Hermione) but it was brilliant being home with his uncles; especially during Christmastime, because his uncle Padfoot absolutely **adored** Christmas.

(Harry had once asked his Godfather why he enjoyed the jovial season so much. Padfoot had explained that it was because of his childhood and how it hadn't exactly been full of merry festivities and love, and that he wanted to make up for it now that he could. He also loved the month of December because he enjoyed studying and practicing the many different beliefs and traditions that Christmas inspired and celebrated.)

Harry looked up from his book (The Two Towers by J. R. R. Tolkien, given to him with the rest of the Lord of the Rings series on his eighth birthday) and took an appreciative glance around the living room.

Padfoot always went all-out when it came to Christmas.

There were colourful streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the couch cushions had been swapped out for festive ones. On the fireplace, there were four tall vermillion red candles that, when lit, smelled like berries and Mulled Wine; and on either side of the mantelpiece stood two little dancing reindeer ornaments that were doing a dance reminiscent of the Charleston.

In the corner, there stood a fair-sized tree (fake, so that it could be used every year) that was bursting with baubles and multi-coloured fairy lights and tinsel; the branches also held little candy canes and small chocolates – most of which had been eaten already. On top of the tree, there was a star that, thanks to magic, spun slowly and reflected light onto the ceiling. (Moony had cleverly charmed the tree-topper so that it sent out different patterns every hour from 7AM until 10PM.)

Emerald green eyes swept over to the large bay window beside the tree and Harry noticed that the snow had begun to fall again. It had already covered the small Yorkshire village that they lived in, and he was quite glad that he was inside where it was toasty and warm – a stark contrast to the cold outside.

(The snowfall did remind him of happy memories, though. Like the day before, for example, when he had woken up and gone downstairs, only to find his uncles (his guardians; his parents, in a way) out in the garden having a snowball fight like they were in school again. Harry had felt joy like no other when he saw them acting like children and, needless to say, he had quickly joined them in their snow-battle.)

In the air, Harry could smell Padfoot's home-cooking (Chicken Dinner, if he wasn't mistaken) and the red berry candles mixed with something else that was just pure Christmas. In the background, he could hear Moony humming to the festive-themed songs on the radio in the kitchen; currently playing was 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday' by Wizzard (ironic, or no?).

Harry smiled and turned back to his book, thinking about the days to come.

Tomorrow, Moony and Padfoot would be taking him to see his mum and dad at the Ward and he was, understandably, excited. He couldn't wait to see his parents and give them their gifts and tell them about his time at Hogwarts. They always seemed so happy when he visited them, and that made him happy.

The Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's was actually quite nice during Christmastime. It had colourful decorations hanging up and there was a towering tree that the patients got to decorate with baubles and lights and pictures of their family. (There was a snowglobe with a photograph of Harry and his uncles hanging up on the tree for his parents to look at.) The residents of the Ward seemed fine – festive, even; and the Healers were always in high spirits. It was a nice establishment, and Harry was glad that his parents were being well taken care of.

Sighing contentedly, Harry began reading The Two Towers again (for the third time in his fourteen years of life). A few minutes later, he heard his uncle's distinctive footfalls bound down the stairs. Padfoot paused and quickly popped his head in through the open doorway of the living room.

"Not causing any trouble in here, are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously (but the small upturn of his lips told Harry that he was joking).

Harry grinned and shook his head. "Nope."

"Shame," Padfoot tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Alright, then. Dinner'll be done in an hour or so," he informed before he left and went into the kitchen.

Moony's humming subsided and his uncles began chatting but Harry couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, what with the walls and the music muffling them. He heard Padfoot's familiar bark of laughter and Moony's infectious chuckle, but those were the only sounds that he could clearly discern. It made him smile; the happiness in his home truly was contagious.

A few minutes and a chapter later, Harry heard his guardians in the hallway between the kitchen and the sitting room talking in hushed whispers:

"You can't make me do this, Moons. I don't know anything about this sort of stuff. You at least have some experience with... ladies, and stuff."

"Yeah, well. Sorry, Pads, but you lost. So you have to tell him."

"Moony," Padfoot groaned.

"Padfoot," Moony mocked.

"Fine! Just..." He huffed. "Fine."

Not a second later, Padfoot and Moony entered the living room.

Harry watched as his uncle gave his Godfather a gentle nudge, and Padfoot took a reluctant step forward to sit on the seat opposite Harry. Moony stayed in the doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe and watching Padfoot and Harry calmly. Harry closed his book carefully, confused and slightly wary of the expression on Padfoot's face, and sat up from his slumped position. He placed his book on the coffee table and watched as his uncles had a silent conversation, Padfoot seemingly pleading and Moony apparently amused but resolute.

Padfoot huffed and turned to Harry. "Hey, Prongslet, bud," he greeted stiffly.

"Hi, Padfoot," Harry replied cautiously, noting the already-awkward atmosphere settling over them.

"Harry, we need to talk."

"Oh?" His eyes widened slightly but he tried to keep himself cool. "Okay. About what, exactly?"

"About..." Padfoot sighed. "Look, Haz, I'm going to be honest with you. I lost a bet, so I have to talk to you about this." He offered Moony a glare but Moony just shrugged. "And it is going to be embarrassing, and excruciatingly awkward, but it is something that we have to do because Hogwarts doesn't teach you this sort of personal stuff and it is our job to do that," he finished quickly but with determination.

Harry frowned and swallowed, green eyes wide as he sat up even straighter. He worried his lip and stared apprehensively at his Godfather. He had a feeling he knew what was about to happen and, needless to say, he wasn't looking forward to it.

* * *

Over the years, Harry Potter has had many important talks with Moony and Padfoot.

He vividly recalled the conversation he'd had with his uncles when he was four (nearly five) years old about why his Nana Hope couldn't do magic like the rest of the family.

(Well, he had other family members that couldn't do magic; like his Aunt Petunia and her family. But he didn't really know her as the woman steadfastly refused to acknowledge his existence, even when he insisted that they send her and his cousin a Christmas gift every year. He didn't lose too much sleep over the lost relationship because he had other family who loved and wanted him (Moony and Padfoot), but he still hoped, every year, that she might respond to him and his gestures of goodwill. She had yet to reply.)

Harry hadn't really understood at the time, why his Nana Hope couldn't do magic. He had grown up in a home that was both Magical and Muggle, but he hadn't really understood why his Nana Hope always did everything the manual way. Then he learned why, and he learned all about the two different societies – the Muggle world and the Magical world...

**:: … ::**

**May, 1985: The 'Muggle' Talk**

"Why does Nana Hope do the dishes like that?" Harry asked, sitting on Padfoot's knee and eating the chocolate biscuit that he had gotten for being a good boy and eating all of his dinner. "Why dun't she do them the way you do them?" he asked his uncle.

They were sat in the back garden of his Nana Hope and Grandad Lyall's home. Nana Hope and Grandad Lyall were both in the house, doing the dishes the way that Moony sometimes did them, and it had gotten the young boy thinking. He had noticed that his Nana Hope did a lot of things differently to Moony and Padfoot – and everyone else he knew, really – and he had wondered why. So he had asked his uncles.

"Oh, well, erm." Padfoot looked over to Moony. "Moony, maybe you want to explain?"

Moony nodded and turned to Harry, holding out his arms. "Come here, Harry," he instructed, and the young boy jumped off of one uncle's knee and onto the other's. Then Moony said, "Nana Hope doesn't do the dishes like Padfoot because she's a Muggle."

Harry frowned and stared at his uncle, his innocent green eyes wide and curious. "Wha's a Muggle?" he asked, before he took another bite of his biscuit and chewed slowly.

"A Muggle is a person who can't do magic," Moony explained. "We live in a town full of them, Harry. Only a special few can do magic."

"Wha's magic?"

"Magic is..."

"Magic is a gift, Harry," Padfoot stated. "It's in our blood. It makes life easier and more fun; like when we wave our wands and do the dishes, or when I turn into a dog sometimes, or when you fly on your broomstick. Muggles can't do any of that, Harry."

"So... we can do magic, but Nana Hope can't?"

"Exactly, Harry."

"Why not?" he asked, because that didn't seem very fair.

"Because she wasn't born with it, Harry," Moony answered. "Many people aren't. Muggles are more common than Wizards and Witches. Many Muggles don't even know of the existence of the Wizarding world."

"Yes," Padfoot agreed. "So, we can't tell anyone at Nursery, alright? We don't want them to be jealous of us, do we?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't want his friends to be jealous of him. Moony and Padfoot had taught him that people who were jealous were often very mean, and he didn't want his friends to be mean to him. That was why Dennis Smithson was mean to him – because Dennis was jealous that Harry got to be raised by his two uncles.

"Good lad," Padfoot smiled, and rewarded him with another biscuit.

**:: … ::**

Some years later, Moony and Padfoot had sat down with Harry to discuss the different kinds of love that existed within the world.

It had all started because a boy from his Muggle primary school – Dennis Smithson – had said that it was weird that he had two dads. Harry had tried to explain that he didn't have two dads; he had a mum and a dad who lived in the hospital, and his **uncles** took care of him. Dennis didn't seem to care, though, as he had still called Harry a freak and had said that it was still weird to have two men looking after him.

Harry didn't think it was weird. Padfoot and Moony were his family, after all. But he had still thought to ask his uncles why Dennis had said all of that mean stuff...

**:: … ::**

**April, 1988: The 'Different Kinds of Love' Talk**

"Dennis Smithson called me a freak," Harry informed quietly, his back to his uncles as he lay on his bed and glared at his window. He could practically hear his uncles exchanging looks but he ignored them and added, "He said that you were freaks as well, and that our family isn't normal, and that his dad thinks we're unnatural."

"Harry..." Padfoot murmured, sitting down on the bed and placing a comforting hand on Harry's back.

Harry sat up, dislodging the hand, and stared at his uncles. "Are we?" he asked. "Are we freaks?"

"No, Harry," Padfoot replied. "We're not freaks."

"I didn't think we were either but Alisha said we was different as well. She said that she has a mum and a dad who are in love and kiss and stuff. When I told her that you two are in love, she said I was being stupid because two men can't fall in love. But you two kiss and stuff – just like her mum and dad. And we're a family, aren't we?"

"Yes, Harry," Moony said, coming into the room and sitting on the other side of Harry. "Of course we're a family."

"To some, our family is unorthodox. But it's not to us," Padfoot added. "Besides, you can't really trust what Alisha says is normal. Her mother is a drunk."

"Sirius!" Moony hissed, batting Padfoot's arm.

"What? It's true!" Padfoot replied, rubbing his injured limb.

Moony sighed and turned back to Harry. "Look, Harry, some won't understand our family, but we do. We are not freaks, and we are not weird. We're not normal, mind you; but we're not freaks."

"But... you are in love? Like Alisha's mum and dad?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Padfoot answered, taking Moony's hand in his own. "We are very much in love. Like Alisha's mum and dad, like your mum and dad, and like Nana Hope and Grandad Lyall."

"Listen to me, Harry. There are many different types of love in the world," Moony informed. "Some of which, many people don't understand. Like mine and Padfoot's. But just because some people don't understand it, it doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. It doesn't mean that it's not real."

"I don't understand," Harry muttered. "What do you mean, _there are different types of love_?"

"Well, there's all kinds of love out there in the world," Moony stated.

Harry and Padfoot watched Moony expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Like, well... Anonymous love," Moony stated. "Which is the love you feel for people you don't really know. Like, um... Santa Claus. You don't know him personally, but you love him, right? Or um..."

"Cher," Padfoot said. "Moony adores Cher, but he doesn't really know her. Not in person. Do you understand, Haz?"

Harry nodded. "Anominous love is for the people you like but don't know? Like how you love the ginger lady in those films?"

"Susan Sarandon," Padfoot grinned. "And exactly like that, Harry."

"And then there's the platonic kind – which is friendship. Like..." Moony thought for a moment before he grinned and said, "Like Padfoot and Molly."

Padfoot spluttered and added, "Or like Moony and Arthur."

Moony smiled, amused, and shook his head faintly. "Padfoot loves Mrs. Weasley, but only as a friend. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "Like me and Ron? Or me and Alisha?"

"Exactly."

"And then there's our type of love," Padfoot stated, waving his spare hand (the one that wasn't holding onto Moony's) between them. "The romantic kind of love. It's the same as the love your mum and dad share, or Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted share, but many people – like Alisha and Dennis and their parents – think it's different."

"Because you're both boys?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry," Moony smiled calmly. "But it's not really different; it just **looks** different because we're both men. But just because it looks different, it doesn't mean it is actually any different. We still have a house and you, and we still do what other couples do; like go to dinner and kiss."

Harry nodded. "You're in love in the same way that Ron's mum and dad are in love," he stated. "It just looks different because you're both boys. But it's not really different."

"Precisely, Harry," Padfoot grinned. "It doesn't matter what other people say or think, as long as we understand it."

"There are other types of love," Moony stated. "Like family love."

"Yes, like the love I feel for your Aunt Andromeda, or how Moony loves Nana Hope, or how you love your mum and dad," Padfoot explained.

"So... like me and you two?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry. Exactly like that," Moony smiled.

Harry grinned proudly.

"And then there's the love that goes beyond friendship," Moony said. "Like the friendship I had with your mum... **have** with your mum."

"Or the love that I feel for your father," Padfoot added. "He's like a brother to me, but we're not actually related. Do you... Do you understand that, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I think so... Like me and Ron? He's my bestest friend, after you and Moony."

Padfoot smiled and nodded, "Yeah, like that."

"Ron dun't think you're weird," Harry told them. "He says that his uncle was like you and that he loved men when he was alive."

"Well, Ron has grown up in the Wizarding world. Our love is more accepted there than it is in the Muggle world."

"Why?"

"Because..." Padfoot sighed. "People fear what they don't understand, Harry. They fear those who are different. And me and Moony... we're very different. Many Muggles don't understand mine and Moony's love, but it's just as real as theirs," he explained.

"With time, people will learn to understand. We just have to be strong and teach those who are less informed," Moony stated. "Do you understand, Harry? Just because people don't understand us, it doesn't mean that they're bad people. It just means that they don't know about it. And like Padfoot said, people fear what they don't understand. So we just have to help people to understand."

"There's nothing wrong or weird or freakish about our love, Haz," Padfoot stated. "Because it's normal to us. And Dennis Smithson hasn't got a clue what he's talking about because you are not a freak, you are amazing. And you have two uncles who are very in love and who love you very much."

Harry's lip trembled and he nodded, moving to hug his uncles in one embrace, throwing an arm around both of their necks. "I love you."

"We love you too," Moony stated, hand rubbing Harry's back comfortingly.

"More than anything," Padfoot added, hugging him tightly.

Harry pulled back and sat on his knees.

"There are more types of love out there, in the world, but do you understand the ones we explained to you?" Padfoot asked.

Harry nodded.

"Don't listen to Dennis Smithson," Moony said. "He doesn't understand. We just have to hope that one day, he will understand and accept it. The Muggle world is moving forward, slowly but surely, and one day, we will be accepted. But until we are, we have to fight and help people to understand us."

Harry nodded again. "I know. It's not Dennis's fault he's stupid and igronant."

Padfoot grinned. "Ignorant," he corrected. "And you're right. It's not his fault. He'll understand that he was stupid one day. But for now, you just have to ignore him."

"Or tell the teacher," Moony added.

"Okay," Harry agreed.

He was not a freak, nor were his uncles. They just looked different because they were both boys but they weren't different. And they weren't freaks, because they cared for him. Moony and Padfoot were his uncles, and they were his guardians; and Dennis Smithson was just jealous and misinformed.

**:: … ::**

A few years later, after Harry had gotten his acceptance letter for Hogwarts, Moony and Padfoot had decided that he was old enough to know about his past and his parents.

They had been visiting his mum and dad at the Ward and Harry, curious as he was, wanted to know why they lived there permanently. He had asked before, of course, but Padfoot and Moony had always been reluctant to talk about it. They had changed the subject or told Harry that they would tell him when he was older.

They had told him little things, of course – stories of the Marauders and their antics, tales of Hogwarts and how Lily Evans and James Potter got together, memories of life before the War – but they never told him the full story about how his parents had ended up on the Ward, or how Moony and Padfoot ended up being his guardians.

The trio had just arrived home after visiting St. Mungo's and after going food shopping when Harry had decided to ask. He had asked because he reckoned that he was old enough to know his own history. He had learned all about the darker parts of his past that day...

**:: … ::**

**August, 1991: The 'Mum and Dad' Talk**

"Why do mum and dad live there?" Harry asked, following his guardians into the house and pausing in the entryway.

Moony and Padfoot paused and turned to face Harry, both looking rather apprehensive. They shared a look with each other – one that Harry couldn't even begin to interpret – before they turned back to him. When they said nothing, Harry continued:

"I think I'm old enough to know why," he stated. "I'm eleven years old now, and I'm leaving for Hogwarts next month. Don't you think I should know about everything before I go?"

Padfoot swallowed visibly and shared another look with Moony before he sighed and nodded. "Alright, Harry. I suppose you're right. You should know," he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "Um... Tell you what, take your shoes off, hang your coat up, and we'll meet you in the living room in five, sound good?"

Harry nodded in reply.

With that, Padfoot turned and headed for the kitchen, shopping bags in hand and shoulders tense. Harry frowned after his Godfather, a little worried because his uncle sounded... uneasy? Upset? Worried, perhaps? Whatever it was, Harry didn't like it and he wondered if it was because he had asked about his parents. But he needed to know, and the conversation was bound to happen at some point, he reasoned.

"Harry..." Moony hesitated. "This – What we're going to tell you, it's not fun and it's not easy. It's nothing like our previous stories of Hogwarts and hijinks. It's hard to talk about, especially for Padfoot. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry nodded. "I know," he replied, because he did know. War, as a general rule, was not fun; and his parents were at St. Mungo's because of the War – that much he knew. "But I need to know."

Moony assessed him for a few seconds before he nodded. "Alright," he said. "Okay. Uh, do what Pads said and we'll see you in a few. You want a drink?"

"Lemonade, please?"

"Alright," he said, before he followed Padfoot into the kitchen.

Harry removed his coat and shoes and put them in their correct places before he moved into the living room and waited for his guardians. A few moments later, they entered the room and Moony handed him his lemonade before they sat across from him. Moony took Padfoot's hand in his own and Padfoot gave it a squeeze before they looked at Harry.

"Harry, your parents love you very much," Padfoot began calmly.

"I know," Harry said. "How... How did they end up on the Ward?"

Padfoot took a moment before he answered, "We lost a lot of people during the War. We lost friends – best friends, even. It took a lot from us. And your mum and dad, they were so worried it would take you as well." He paused and looked to Moony pleadingly.

Moony nodded almost imperceptibly and said, "There was a Prophecy. It said that there would be a boy born in July, 1980, and that he would have the power to defeat Lord Voldemort. Your mum and dad thought that would be you, and they had planned to leave the country with you – to keep you safe. A friend of ours, Peter Pettigrew, was supposed to be their Secret Keeper but he turned out to be a turncoat, and he worked for the other side."

"We figured it out before he became their Secret Keeper, but a Prophecy is a Prophecy, apparently," Padfoot said bitterly, "And on October 31st, 1981, two homes were attacked. Your mum and dad... they..."

"Sirius?"

"I'm okay, Remus," Padfoot assured before he cleared his throat and looked Harry in the eye. "They were tortured by some very bad people. Death Eaters, they were called, and they followed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I got there before they could get to you but I couldn't save your parents, and I regret it every single day."

"Sirius, we've talked about this," Moony muttered. "You did everything you could. You caught Peter, you kept James and Lily's location secret. There is nothing else you could have done. You couldn't have known that Voldemort's followers would know where they were, and you couldn't have gotten there earlier. There is nothing else you could have done, Sirius, and you know that."

Padfoot nodded. "I know, but I still..." He turned to look at Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry frowned, because it wasn't his uncle's fault. Padfoot had tried. He had tried to stop it and save everyone. He had tried, and that was enough. Harry stood up and moved over to the couch where his uncles were sitting. He then sat down between his guardians and was immediately wrapped in a fierce hug, Padfoot's nose buried in his hair.

After a moment, he pulled back and said, "You said that two houses were attacked?"

"Yes. Yours and the Longbottoms. Neville Longbottom stopped the Dark Lord. No one knows exactly how but he did. He's quite famous for it. He lives with his grandmother now."

"But you shouldn't treat him any differently, Harry," Moony stated. "He's probably had people fawning over him his entire life. If he goes to Hogwarts, he'll need friends – not admirers."

Harry nodded. "I understand." He paused and, after a moment of hesitation, he asked, "Will my mum and dad always be like that? Will they ever get better?"

"No, Harry," Moony answered sadly. "It's unlikely that they'll ever get better. The Death Eaters... they used so many curses on your parents, some of which are still unknown. I'm sorry. But they know who you are. And they love you, more than anything. They just can't... say it."

Harry nodded. "And they can't take care of themselves."

"No, but they love you. And we do too; as if you were our own blood. Don't you ever forget that, Harry. You're our son just as much as you're theirs," Padfoot stated.

Harry smiled and hugged his uncle again. Padfoot returned the embrace without hesitation. "I love you, too." He reached out and pulled his uncle Moony into the hug as well. "Both of you," he added. "Thank you for telling me."

* * *

**December, 1994**

Over the years, Harry Potter has had many important conversations with Moony and Padfoot but he could tell that the one he was about to have was going to be very different; mainly because most of their significant conversations had usually involved **both** Moony and Padfoot sitting him down to talk, but also because Padfoot had already stated that it was going to be 'excruciatingly awkward'.

Harry reckoned he knew what they were going to discuss.

Hogwarts didn't teach them it, Padfoot had said. And it was going to be awkward and embarrassing – which really only meant one thing: they were going to discuss the ins and outs of sex (which he kind of already knew because of talk around Hogwarts and because the boys in his dorm were constantly talking about **it** and girls).

Ron, his best friend, had told him that Mr. Weasley had sat the Weasley boys down and had given them The Talk when Ron was only ten years old and Harry had thought – had **hoped** – that he wouldn't be given The Talk because he was fourteen now, and he basically knew everything anyway, and Moony and Padfoot had never mentioned it, so...

But, apparently, Harry wasn't that lucky.

Harry stared at his Godfather, who looked as uncomfortable as he felt. For a few long seconds, the air was filled with silence: Moony standing in the doorway, smiling like the entire situation was hilarious; Padfoot sitting on the sofa opposite, tapping his foot and looking like he was thinking about his words very carefully; and Harry shifting uneasily, staring down at his book on the coffee table and wishing that he was taking the ring to Isengard instead of what was about to happen.

Finally, Padfoot spoke:

"Harry, you're fourteen now, and that's a big age – an important and confusing age. And that means that you're..." He paused, looking like he was considering his words very carefully. "It means that you are ready. For this talk. About love and other things..."

Dear All of the Deities Above, Harry was right! His uncle was really going to give him The Talk. The Talk about **it** ; about the beast with two backs; about the horizontal tango; about the dance with no pants; about sexual intercourse with another human being.

"Sex," Padfoot said, and Harry winced. "It's not a dirty word, Harry. And it's not a dirty activity. Most of the time, at least. Really it depends on what you're into. Some people like dirt and mess. Actually, sometimes it is messy, but—"

"Padfoot," Moony murmured. "You're getting off topic."

"Right," Padfoot agreed. "Right. Anyway, we have to talk about sex, and some other stuff too."

Harry groaned and scrunched up his face. "Do we really have to, Padfoot? I mean, I already know most of this stuff," he admitted. "From friends. Not from personal experience," he added when he saw Padfoot's questioning expression.

Padfoot hummed. "Be that as it may, I have to go through this with you. Sorry, Prongslet, but Moony said we have to," he apologised.

Harry frowned and looked over to Moony. Moony just stared back resolutely and Harry knew from the look on his uncle's face that he was not going to be getting out of this particular conversation. So he decided to accept defeat and slumped back in his seat, waiting for the torturous conversation to begin.

"Fine," he muttered. "The quicker you talk, the quicker we get this over and done with."

"That's the spirit," Moony chuckled from the doorway.

"Alright, well. Hogwarts doesn't really teach sexual education but they will be holding a day-long workshop when you go back," Padfoot informed. "That said, Moony and I thought we should talk first, because the school is probably going to give you the basics and talk about STDs, STIs and MTAs. But I want to talk about the personal stuff." He studied Harry for a moment. "Trust me, Harry, this is as awkward for me as it is for you."

Harry hummed doubtfully and said, "You're a Healer, Padfoot. I very much doubt this is as bad for you as it is for me."

Padfoot chuckled and said, "Yes, Harry, I am a Healer but I have never had to do this. I generally deal with blood and guts and life-threatening injuries, not talks about sex and love."

Harry thought about it for a moment before he sighed in resignation and replied, "Let's just get this out of the way and never talk about it again, yeah?"

"Agreed," Padfoot replied. "So. Sex. Um... When two people love each other very much, they, uh... they want to show that love. Now, that love can be between a man and a woman, or two men, or two women... or a bunch of people. Look, it doesn't matter. The point is: generally, most of the time, people show their love for one another through sex."

Harry frowned, because it sounded so cliché – _when a man and a woman love each other very much, they do it and create other humans._ Yeah, tell him something he doesn't know!

"Now," Padfoot continued, "I don't know what you know about making love but I do know that the school will be going through the mechanics and the consequences in January. So here's what I'll tell you: don't jump into it. Be ready for it. Wait until you just can't wait anymore. Preferably fall in love first, but..."

Padfoot paused and studied Harry for a moment. Harry stared back, wondering if it wasn't going to be as awful as he had previously thought. Honestly, he had assumed that his Godfather was going to go through the ins and outs but it didn't seem to be shaping up that way. But, that would be happening when he went back to Hogwarts in January... so he wasn't out of the woods, really.

"I'm going to have to do it, aren't I?" Padfoot asked himself, watching Harry carefully. "Alright. I'm sorry, Haz, but I don't have loads of experience with this stuff so I'm going to have to talk about me and Moony."

Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously, straightening up in his seat. "No, Padfoot. Please don't talk about you and Moony and... **that**. Please, I begging you—"

Padfoot frowned, his grey eyes equally as wide, and held out his hands in a placating manner. "No, Harry," he replied. "Merlin, no! I wasn't – I wasn't going to tell you that. That's – no."

Harry heaved a great sigh of relief and relaxed slightly, leaning back against the couch cushions again. "Good," he muttered to himself. "Good."

Padfoot huffed a laugh. "I mean, not exactly," he continued. "Look, Harry, you should wait until you're in love before you, you know, have sex. It's better when you're in love – trust me, I know. Moony and I..." He glanced at Moony before he returned his eyes to Harry. "We didn't wait."

Harry looked at Moony, whose eyes were fixed on the floor now. He frowned, turned back to Padfoot, and replied, "What do you mean? I thought you said you were each other's first and only loves..."

"We are," Padfoot agreed. "But we didn't wait. We fell in love before we got... intimate, but we didn't wait for each other; we didn't **get** **together** first. Do you know what I mean?" he asked, foot tapping senselessly. "Moony and I, we were with numerous people before we found each other. We were friends, but we didn't... We had sex with other people – people we weren't in love with – because we didn't realise what was standing right in front of us for years."

"Okay. I get it," Harry mumbled. "I should wait to fall in love."

"Or, at the very least, do it with someone you care about," Moony said from the doorway.

"We just want you to learn from our mistakes, Haz," Padfoot added. "Merlin knows we've made enough of them. We just don't want you to fall into the same trap, you know? We want you to be ready and to have found love before you jump into it because, for all that is said and done, sex is a big deal. To some, it's not. But I think it is; more so when you're in love."

Harry nodded. "Okay," he replied simply, because what else was there to say?

"Did... Did any of that make any sense at all?" Padfoot asked.

Harry nodded again. "Yes," he replied. "I think so. Don't do it until I'm ready and it'll be even better when I'm in love or care about the person I'm doing it with. Right?"

Padfoot thought for a moment before he replied, "Right."

Harry nodded, feeling quite awkward. "Um... Is there... Is there anything else I need to know, or...?"

"I don't think so," Padfoot replied. "Hogwarts is going to teach you everything, from Safety and Contraceptive Spells to the mechanics of sex, so... I think I've done my job."

"Cool, can I read my book now and forget this ever happened?" Harry asked hopefully.

Padfoot nodded and started to get up before he plopped back down and said, "Fuck it. While I'm here, don't do drugs."

Harry hid a smile, realising that his uncle had sworn without realising it, and listened to his Godfather's advice.

"I mean, don't get addicted to them," Padfoot amended. "It's okay to experiment but some drugs I wouldn't even test – like heroin or cocaine. Experimentation is fine, but addiction is not and I will not let you become another statistic," he warned. "Do you understand me, Harry?"

Harry nodded mutely, because he didn't plan on trying any dangerous drugs – or any drugs at all, really. Plus, he didn't want to let his family – his mum and his dad and his uncles – down by getting addicted to drugs.

"Good," Padfoot nodded. "And, er, drink responsibly. I know you're young and if you're anything like your father, you won't have a limit, but please try to drink sensibly. Also, don't smoke. It's gross and it doesn't make you look cool and it significantly lowers a Wizard's lifespan. It was cool in the '50s and the '60s and the '70s but now it's just a filthy habit. It took me ages to stop—"

"Wait, you used to smoke?" Harry interrupted. "But you're a Healer!"

"I know," Padfoot replied, mock offended. "That's why I stopped. Also, Moony wouldn't kiss me. And anyway, is it so hard to believe? I was cool in the '70s."

"Ha," Harry scoffed. "Sure you were."

"I was," Padfoot replied. "I was ultra-cool. Moony can attest to that, right, my love?"

Moony just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I can't say you were uncool," he replied vaguely.

"I was cool," Padfoot insisted. "In the '70s, at least. I smoked Muggle cigarettes and wore leather and had a motorbike and did drugs. I have first-hand knowledge of both smoking and drugs being bad, by the way, so you really should listen to me."

"I am listening, Padfoot," Harry replied. "I wasn't planning on smoking or doing any drugs. I promise."

Padfoot nodded. "Good," he said. "So, um... Have you learned anything today?"

Harry sighed but he knew that his Godfather just wanted to know that he had listened. "Yes, I did," he replied. "I should wait until I can't wait anymore, find someone I love because **it** will be better then, and I shouldn't smoke or do any hard drugs."

Padfoot nodded. "Right."

"Also," Harry added, "You used to smoke, Moony doesn't think you're cool, and you were both idiots in school."

"Right," Padfoot replied before he frowned and said, "Yes, he does. Moony said that he couldn't say I was uncool, therefore he was saying that I am, in fact, cool."

Harry snorted but didn't say anything.

"Anyway," Padfoot glared playfully, "I think we are done here. We can now forget all about this conversation. Hey, it wasn't as bad as we thought it was going to be, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess," he replied. It could have been more awkward, he supposed.

"Unless..." Padfoot looked to Moony. "Anything to add?"

Moony shook his head. "Nope, I think you covered everything."

Padfoot nodded and stood up. "Alright, then," he replied. "I'll get out of your hair," he said as he ruffled Harry's dark locks. He then exited the living room, giving Moony a peck on the cheek as he went by.

Moony stood in the doorway for another second before he entered the living room and sat on the seat opposite Harry. "You okay, Harry?" he asked.

Harry shrugged and nodded.

Moony hummed suspiciously but said, "Alright. Look, Harry, I'm sorry we had to put you through that but I can guarantee that it will be more awkward at school. You know, with your teachers and your friends and the girls in your House all being stuck in the same room, being given the same talk..."

"Moony!" Harry whined.

Moony grinned, mischievous and unrepentant. "Sorry," he muttered, not sounding sorry at all. He stood up and added, "Hey, don't forget we're going to see your mum and dad tomorrow. Have you wrapped the presents you want to give to them?"

"Yep," Harry answered. "Can you check them over, though? Just to make sure I've wrapped them right?"

"Of course," Moony chuckled before he moved to the doorway. He paused and turned back to Harry. "I'm proud of you, Harry. You know that, right?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"Good," Moony said before left the room and headed for the kitchen.

Harry listened as his uncles began talking – their words muffled by plaster and music once again – and picked up his book. He quickly found the page and began reading, his last thought before he was absorbed into J. R. R. Tolkien's world once more: well, that could have been worse.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> STDs – Sexually Transmitted Diseases  
> STIs – Sexually Transmitted Infections  
> MTAs – Magically Transmitted Ailments
> 
> (Yes, I made the last one up. Don't judge me.)


End file.
